I felt great remorse for the things done unto Myself, but bonds could still be salvaged. Luckily I and Myself are quite civil, so negotiations took place between the two (yes, Me was present at the time, but had very little say in the matter). The whole being of Me, Myself, and I was distributed; not too evenly, but as fair as could be managed.
I and Myself renewed the original course of life, but with a profound respect for the other. I no longer wanted to kill Myself, but rather rejoiced to have the honor of knowing Myself.
I and Myself agreed to read and study poetry together, as well as many fictional stories written by the hand's of legendary authors. There was romanticism found in the mythologies of ancient cultures, so Myself had no complaints, and I was exposed to an adequate amount of interesting information. Even Me benefits every once in a while, when religious traditions of tribal societies are studied, and temples dedicated to the deities of fertility and sex are learned about.
Presently, the trio of inseparables are growing closer with each passing day. The generous and charitable traits of Myself eventually led to the offer of drugs to I and Me. I was a bit reluctant, but Me is always ready to try new things. I succumbed to peer pressure, after thorough research of the drug. It can be said that I or Me are not caterpillars, but truly a transformation happened within the two.
I gained a new perspective (though still warming to the idea of studying romanticism and believing in the fruitful prospect of true love).
As for Me, let's just say the prison of the brain isn't too bad after partaking in drug use. One day I was a bit curious, and ventured to see what Me was doing inside the prison cell. How can I describe the scene that was beheld? Magnificent paintings and portraits covered the walls and ceiling of the room.
I asked, "what is all of this, Me?"
And Me simply replied with, "Me."
It was a mural; a combination of everything that ever was Me. There were dark fantasies, pornographic images, and every detestable imagining of Me, yet the outcome was quite opposite of what one may expect of Me. The mural which was produced from the mixture of pictures was, and still is, as phenomenal as a cosmic reaction, or so thought I.
"Now I can see Me for Me."
This mural was a colorful portrait of a heavenly embrace. It was like discovering an old cave painting; two beings wrapping themselves around each other, so archaic and beautiful. The drugs helped Me to find purpose for all of the dark and disturbing natures of the human soul.
It was made clear that all Me every really wanted was a playmate; Me was the loneliest of all. Me wants touch, Me likes the tangible; and what is more pleasing for Me to caress than tender skin, soft and curvy? I understood Me, because after trying to kill Myself, I felt the pang of loneliness shared by Me and Myself. Through this sympathy, a new admiration was formed for Me.
I would like to thank you for taking the time to comprehend why I tried to kill Myself once.
And as for Myself? "Hope you come back again, it was great to meet you."